


Enouement

by Boondockbitch



Category: Only Lovers Left Alive (2013), Only Lovers Left Alive (2013) RPF, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies), War Horse RPF
Genre: Angst, Break Up, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Love, Marriage Proposal, Reverse Chronology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-12 19:17:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4491567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boondockbitch/pseuds/Boondockbitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enouement: The bittersweet feeling of being in the future, of having seen what it consists of, but being unable to tell your past self.</p>
<p>A glimpse into Tom's five year relationship with Lily, where it went and how it got there. He won't ever be the same. Fluff, angst, thunderstorms and fights. Oh, and some break-up sex too. Tom/OFC</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ambivalence

V. Ambivalence: the coexistence within an individual of positive and negative feelings toward the same person, object, or action, simultaneously drawing him or her in opposite directions.

  
  


The street was quieter on Sundays. Tom had come here nearly every week for years, before he left for the states. The little girl next door rode her bike after Church and the old woman across the way had a dog that liked to yap. The sound drove Tom crazy, but she wouldn't put the damned thing back inside until after lunch. This part of London was greyer, which said a lot. It was a nice neighborhood with lots of trees and an overhang to catch the rain.

Today, the sun was shining on the little white building. The sound of Tom's car died out, leaving the street void. This was a particularly bleak Sunday, even with the sun shining down and illuminating the blue door. He stuck his keys into his pocket, looking down as he made up the stairs to the door. His knuckles rapped lightly, almost too much. The dog wasn't yapping today.

The door squeeked louder than it used to when it opened. 

She was beautiful.

In five years, this was one thing Tom could never deny. She let him inside, stalking back into her kitchen. Tom didn't take off his shoes and suddenly missed the feeling of the carpet between his toes.

She was leaning against the counter, her hair bundled at the back of her head in a loose fashion, some stray tendrils falling on her shoulders and licking her cheeks; the very same places Tom used to kiss her delicate, pale skin. Tom stopped on the other side of the counter, drinking her in. He couldn't remember the sweater she was wearing. She always wore the maroon one- the one he'd given her five years ago and she had never given back. But now, it was stuffed into a cardboard box on the kitchen table with the sleeve poking out.

He would say that it still smelled like her. Lily would argue that it smelled like him. Things had a funny way of happening like that.

Lily had been waiting for him for almost an hour. He hadn't meant to be late. Tom had even gotten up early that day, hoping to get their meeting out of the way, but he'd stayed in the shower until the water ran cold and cursed as he rushed through the cold streets with his hair still wet.

"Do you want some tea?" She didn't bother to wait for a reply and sat a steaming cup down in front of him. Tom never rejected tea. It was black, two sugars, the way she knew he liked it. He swallowed it without tasting, knowing it was the last cup of tea she'd ever give him.

Lily had a mug of her own- yellow with a large white flower on one side of it. Tom recognized it as one he'd gotten her to replace the one he'd broken. Tearing his eyes away, he looked around the apartment. Any sign he'd ever been there was stripped away. There was a frame on the ledge of the kitchen window that was empty. It used to hold a Christmas photo, and Tom wondered if she'd torn it in half and flushed it down the loo. There were random trinkets that were missing throughout. A ring of dust settled perfectly where there had once been a snow globe from New York City. The hook on the wall was void of his extra set of car keys.

"Your blanket is in the wash." She told him. Tom's eyes fell to the counter top as she spoke. "You can pick it up later, or I can drop it off-"

"Keep it." He mumbled, waving his hand absently. 

He crossed around the counter to the dishwasher, rinsing out his cup. It felt mechanical, rinse, stick in the dishwasher, close the door. She always preferred to hand wash dishes, and it drove her insane when he simply stowed things away in the rack.

There was an expression on her face that Tom couldn't quite read, but he stopped next to her. He lingered, debating rather to move away or to offer some kind of support. Reading her had never been easy- he was almost always wrong.

"I feel like I'm supposed to say something." She said. "Something profound or... Whatever."

"You don't owe me anything." Tom told her. "You can yell, if you'd like."

"Always the nice guy." She smirked, wrapping both of her hands around the mug. "You know I can't be mad at you."

"You could try."

"Fine." She cleared her throat, looking him in the eye for probably the first time in months. "Get out. Leave. I never want to see you again. Go die in a ditch. How's that?"

"Dry." Tom let out a small laugh. His eyes twinkled and so did hers. "Very dry."

"I'm not good at small talk." She said, sighing as she took her mug over to the sink. She dumped the remainder of her tea away, sitting the mug to the side to wash later. "I wasn't entirely kidding, you know."

"I know." Tom's voice was low. He looked over at the box of his belongings and approached them. Lily stayed at the counter, teeth gnawing at her lip. It was over. The finality of it was already weighing on Tom's shoulders, and he could see it in Lily's eyes. The deep, horrible sadness permeated in them. They were endless, like Mariana's Trench, and he was drowning.

It was for the best. The way things had become between them, Tom and Lily both knew they could never be friends. It was far past that point. They could never let go of the fights, the screaming, the words they hadn't meant to say, the sleepless nights; they couldn't let go of the snogging, the sex, or the mad, horrible, crazy love they'd felt for each other. So they had decided- through mutual pain- that they wouldn't see each other again.

On top of the large box sat a stack of photographs. Among them was the Christmas photo, taken with a Polaroid. The camera itself was inside the box, along with his sweater and the trinkets. With the Christmas photo was a photo of them at the beach, her on his back with her limbs wrapped around him, grinning into the sun. A photo of them at their friends' wedding, whispering in each other's ears when they thought no one was watching; one of Tom with cake mix on his cheeks and nose, another of Lily taking a bite of the resulting cake. He let them drop back into the box, deciding to toss them in the bins when he got home. He hadn't the heart to do it right there, right in front of a woman he'd once wanted to spend his life with. She was already hurt, and he couldn't do it to her again.

"I'm going to run this out." Tom told her, heaving the box up to his chest. Lily lead to the door, opening it for him. She remained in the doorway, watching silently as he shoved the box into his trunk. He stood, still, for a moment after, staring down at the rear end of his car, brows knit.

Lily nearly started down the steps, but he was already making his way back to the sidewalk. She held her hands close to her chest, the ends of her sweater bundled in her hands. She stepped back inside and Tom closed the door behind them.

They lingered by the door, neither of them sure of what to say next. Tom looked down. Lily had circles under her eyes. How long had it been since she'd had a decent night's sleep? With bruised eyes, cracked lips and pale skin, Lily looked like a ghost of the woman Tom had known. A pain settled in his chest, realizing this would most certainly be the way he would remember her. Gone were the rosy cheeks, wide smile and glittering eyes. His heart hurt.

He had loved her. He still did.

"This is it then, isn't it?" She said. They were frozen, as though this moment, this final moment, could last forever. In part, he wanted it to. He could have stayed in her tiny flat forever, just staring at her. But the clock on the wall kept ticking, and Tom grew anxious. He should have left already. He should have driven away already, should already be putting away his things and throwing away the photographs.

"Yes." He answered. "I suppose it is."

Lily nodded. Tom knew there was more she wanted to say. There was something, some words, some last argument or judgement, some last declaration; you're a bloody selfish git and I never want to see you again. But instead, like every wish and hope and ounce of joy she'd ever had, Tom took that away from her to. Whatever she wanted to say, it would have to wait. Tom kissed her, fully, intimately, in every way he had always meant to, pouring every I love you never said, every dream he'd ever had of her, and every wish for her happiness into her mouth.

She didn't kiss him back, but she didn't stop him. Her hands, however, moved in slow motion. One wrapped around his neck, weaving into the thick brown hair that nested there as though she could bury herself in it. The other clung to his shirt and kept him grounded.

And it was over. As soon as their lips parted, Tom felt the moment slip away, and it was gone. It was just another memory now, and he could never have it again. He stood up, watching her fingertips hover over her mouth- untouching, as though she may accidentally wipe his touch away. 

"Say it." His voice was hoarse, quiet. Any louder and he would have had to shout. "It's killing you, I know it is. Say it."

He felt adrenaline coursing through him. Nothing could prepare him, and he was well aware. Whatever she wanted to say, he needed to hear it, or he would spent weeks, months, his whole life wondering what it was. She was crying, now, staring up at him. He hated seeing it, especially once he began to realize how many times he had caused it.

"Goodbye, Thomas."


	2. Dégringolade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Lily have a fight that could be what tears them apart. Tom thinks she's unfaithful, but Lily insists there's a bigger issue at hand.

IV. Dégringolade: a quick deterioration or breakdown, as of a situation or circumstance.

He was merciless. 

  


  
  


Tears ran down Lily's cheeks as Tom's cold eyes bore into her own. He towered over her, his accusing posture turning her to putty. She wiped at her face with the back of her sleeve- his sleeve- and tried desperately to hold her ground. 

"I've seen the way he looks at you." Tom was growling, bracing himself with his hand plastered on the counter. Lily stood up straight, cursing herself. She was an angry-crier, and it turned her into an idiot. She was utterly pissed, and there was little she could do to sway Tom while she was babbling like a brook. "I've seen how close you stand by him. I've seen him holding onto your hand like a schoolboy." 

"We're just friends, Tom!" She croaked, her voice shaking. Her teeth clenched and she balled her hands into fists at her sides. "If you seriously think I'm messing around on you, that's your problem!" 

"My problem?" He nearly screamed, and Lily stared him down. "So it's my problem when he takes you home?" 

"He dropped me off at Sandra's," Lily was shouting now. She didn't think of the sore throat she would have the next day, or imagine the splitting headache she would endure. She only saw Tom's furious face, the empty eyes, and accusatory way his mouth sat. "That was the end of it. It's not my fault you're so insecure!" 

"How would you feel?" He growled, moving closer to her. "If you saw me with another woman? Tell me." 

"That's different- I trust you!" Lily's anger shifted, tears flowing down her cheeks in rapid succession. The anger melted into grief, and Tom could see it in her eyes. "Don't you trust me?" 

Tom paused and his eyes softened. His chest heaved and he licked his lips. "I don't know." 

"You don't know." She repeated. 

"It's not the first time." 

"You know why he drives me?" Lily shook her head, backing away from him. Tom pretended not to notice. "Because you're always gone. Because you've got parties to attend, premiers, filming to do. You're too busy for me, Tom." 

"I've never been too-" 

"Shut up." She demanded, cutting him off. Tom glared back at her, his shoulders rigid and jaw tightened. "You're always away. You always have a show or a film or something else going on in your life that's more important than I am." 

"Is that what this is about?" He sighed. "You're spinning this on me? It's my fault you've been going after some git-" 

"I'm not spinning anything." Lily's voice cracked. He looked at her, feeling his own tears sting the corners of his eyes. "You're never here, and I need someone to talk to-" 

"Someone to take my place?" Tom was shouting now, and Lily took in a shuddering breath, putting her fingertips on her temples. "Someone else to fill that space in your bed or, or, or-" He stuttered, rage taking him over. He couldn't fathom how she could replace him so easily, and yet, he had seen the man come into their home just last week. "Someone else between your legs-" 

"No one's taking your place!" 

"Do you think about him?" 

"What?" Lily felt her heart drop into her stomach, and she desperately begged him in her mind to look up at her. But he wouldn't. He stared at the table, his eyes trained on an empty coffee mug. 

"When we make love." Tom's voice shook as though he were about to explode. "Do you think about him?" 

She was silent. Lily stared at him with shock, her mouth agape. They were both still, silent, as though the fighting had stopped. But the tension was thick, palpable, and the anxiety only seemed to drown them. 

"Dammit!" In one swift motion, Tom grabbed up the coffee mug and an instant later, it was crashing on the floor. "Tell me!" 

Lily stepped back from him like a deer in the headlights. They'd had their share of battles, but none of them had ever escalated so terribly. Tom stared back at her and, upon seeing the look of utter terror on her face, he looked at the broken ceramic. The mess he'd made. They were silent, the rage in the air around them palpable. He inhaled it with every breath. Tom bent, picking up the bigger pieces of broken mug and crossing the kitchen to the bins to dump them. 

"He looks at you the way I do." Tom felt an ache in his chest, but Lily was silent, her lips pressing together. His heart skipped a beat as he turned back to her, walking back to her with caution, as though she were a wounded animal. 

"The way you _used to_." 

"So you have seen it?" Tom nearly bit his own tongue, ignoring the burning in his eyes from her words. "The way he looks at you." 

"Thomas..." Her voice was too soft, as though she didn't want to admit it to him. 

"You think I don't look at you," Tom mumbled, reaching forward to push a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "Like you're the love of my life?" 

"Not anymore." She didn't look at him. Desperation weighed in her words. Tom felt his heart being ripped to shreds, falling on the floor. Shattering. Like ceramic. He stepped back from her, his hands going to the back of his head, fingers gripping his hair. 

"I can't do this." He shook his head. Lily shrank away from him, backing up until she hit the counter. "I'm so sorry." 

The tears were hot now, her face red, but she nodded, understanding what the words really meant. She held her hands against her chest as though he had burned her, but she didn't speak. Lily turned away and vanished into her room. The door slammed behind her, and Tom waited for a long moment, listening to her cries.  
  
  


He ran a hand through his hair, approaching the door. It was four in the morning and his neck ached from tossing on the couch. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and had a cup of coffee, and now he couldn't sleep at all. As if he had even slept before. He stared at the wood of her door, pressing his palm flat to it. 

Tom knew she loved him. While he was off, making movies, getting famous; traveling. Meeting people, succeeding... She was here, at home. Waiting for him. There was always a hot cup of tea and a loving embrace for him in her apartment. Lily had been right about his insecurities. She lived another life, far away from him, and it seemed logical to him that she would choose to be with someone else. Someone who she could wake up next to and who had time for hockey games and late night conversation and dinner dates. He sure as hell didn't. At least, not right now. 

The door opened with a small groan and Tom's eyes struggled to adjust to the dark. Moonlight fell over the bed like a guiding beacon and he moved toward it, sitting carefully on the edge. He watched her chest rise and fall with sleep and brushed the hair away from her face. It glistened with dried tears, her mascara leaving streaks of black over the pink cheeks. Her mouth was part opened, dried and cracked from chewing on them. 

Lily's eyes opened, straining in the dark. He leaned down, his lips hovering on her jaw. Her hands grasped at him, his mouth trailing across her skin toward her lips, entrapping them. She kissed him back hungrily, pulling his face toward her. He put his hands down on either side of her, sidling her. 

Their clothes were abandoned variously around them. They moved wordlessly, their hands running over naked flesh. Tom trailed his fingertips over her breasts, down the valley between them, over her stomach, his mouth following in their wake. Her hips rose as his mouth encompassed her center and he gripped her hips to steady her. A hefty groan escaped her throat and he peered up at her through the darkness. She was watching him, her hands grasping the sheets beneath her. His hands tightened around her thighs, mouth working against her as she continued her quiet moaning. 

He pulled himself up and back over her. Lily's arms wrapped around his neck as he buried his nose into her collarbone. He took her skin in his mouth, inch by inch, pulling her body closer and closer to his. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and Tom steadied his breathing as he moved into her. They shared a slight groan with the motion as he began to move, earning heavy breath from his lover. They were slick with sweat, their breaths burning each other's skin, groans falling from their lips in succession. Lily tightened around him as she moaned loudly, only serving to push him further, and Tom's hands trailed to grip her hips, thrusting a final time and spilling into her. 

They lay twisted in the sheets, legs tangled. She was cocooned in his arms, her delicate hands against his chest. Tom buried his nose in her hair, inhaling the scent of lavender and vanilla. Lily was cold, and if it weren't from her body shaking with silent sobs, he might have thought she were dead. Tom lay awake until the sun came over the horizon, peeping in on them through the sheer curtains. Lily had finally fallen asleep, her breath tickling his chest. He tried in vain to swallow the lump in his throat as he watched the sun climbing higher and higher, but when the sun filled the window pane, he slowly untangled himself from Lily, careful not to wake her. He pulled his clothes on with tears in his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his chest constricting as he slipped through the door, forcing himself not to look back at her sleeping form. 

He slid into his own apartment exactly thirteen minutes later. He didn't make it to the bathroom, kitchen, or bedroom. He didn't even make it past the threshold. The door closed softly behind him, cutting him off from the rest of the world. Tom's back pressed against it and his hands flew to his face, and he cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thanks again for reading everyone! Luckily for all of us, the rest of the chapters after this are much happier, I promise! I really adore comments/kudos (they let me know someone is reading!) so if you have the time, I'd really appreciate it! Thank you! xoxo


	3. Chrysallism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily gets an unexpected visit from Tom, who attempts to soothe her insecurities.

III. Chrysalism: The amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm.  


[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=21q1ie)

It was raining again. Even with the immense heat outside, it poured down over London callously. The thunder came around ten in the morning, when Lily was sitting down on the sofa with her chamomile tea. Wrapped in her favorite sweater, inhaling the rich scent of the tea (and Tom, from the sweater) she spent a majority of the morning stuffing her face with popcorn and sitting in the dark watching crap tele. And ignoring the fact that she was alone. 

Tom had been gone so long. She knew he was working, diligently, in the States, and she tried desperately to continue supporting him. They'd shared phone calls, text messages, even Skyped once or twice. He tweeted her a message of love just three days ago, and it already had nearly two million likes and retweets... And some hate mail from his fangirls. He had told her just two days ago that he would call her today, but the phone had been silent thus far. She held out hope he would ring by lunch, but as time went on, she wasn't sure. 

Lily sighed, clicking the button on her remote to switch to a different program. She settled on Wipeout, content to watch other people embarrass themselves for a change. 

A sharp knock interrupted her and she stood, crossing to the front door, abandoning her half-empty bowl of popcorn on the table next to Anna Karenina. She hadn't expected company today, much less during a harsh storm on a Tuesday morning. Lily wrenched the door open, met with the sound of falling rain and rolling thunder in the distance. 

There, on the porch, shielded by a stray newspaper, stood Tom. His hair stuck to his face with water, the paper evidently useless. He was soaked to the bone, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt that stuck to his skin like melted plastic. A grin graced his cheeks and Lily's heart fluttered at the sight of him. 

"Excuse me, miss," he laughed. "Could I possibly borrow a telephone? My girlfriend's expecting me to ring-" 

"Get in here, you stupid oaf!" Lily reached out, yanking him in the door. The newspaper fell to the ground and his mouth was on hers. She ignored the wetness of his skin and clothes as he held her close to him. She was damp from Tom's touch when he pulled away after a very long moment. He removed his shoes as she gave him space to settle. His drenched shirt joined the shoes and his socks on the floor. Lily swept into her room, grabbing a dry shirt and handed it to him as he shook the water from his hair. "What are you even doing here? You're supposed to be in the States." 

"Well, I can always go back-" 

"No!" She kissed him again, and Tom grinned against her lips. He followed her toward the sofa and his eyes landed on a novel on the coffee table. 

"You've been reading it?" He fingered the bookmark between the pages. 

"The second time now." She answered, curling her feet under her as she nestled into the corner of the furniture. Tom sat down beside her, his arm across the back of the sofa. 

"Second?" Tom grinned, tongue darting between his lips. "I'm impressed." 

Before Lily could offer a response, the lights above them flickered, and they were submerged in darkness. 

"Damn." Lily breathed, clamboring to her feet. She shuffled in the dark for a moment, finding a lighter buried in one of her drawers in the kitchen. Grabbing a candle from her bathroom, she rejoined Tom in the living room. The candle cast shadows around the room from its place on the table, and Lily dropped onto the couch with Tom once again. An overwhelming feeling of sadness crept over Lily, suddenly, like the storm or the power outage, and Tom noticed. 

"You alright?" 

Lily picked idly at the fuzz on her socks, frowning. 

"When do you have to leave?" 

"The day after tomorrow." Tom hated that. She was always worried about the future. She asked him many times before what their lives were going to be like next week, next month, or ten years from then. He always told her the same thing: they'll be in love, and that's all that matters. The uncertainty of it all drove her mad, but there was little Tom could offer in comfort. She had to trust that he would always come home to her. It was lonely when he was off working, though he had far less time and opportunity to notice it than she did. 

"What's next?" She asked, looking up at him. "Will you be going to Japan for eight years?" 

"Lillian," Tom scolded. Lily's eyes narrowed at him with his use of her full name, and he returned the look in kind. "You know that won't happen." 

"Is this what it's always going to be though?" 

Tom leaned forward, peering at her through the dark as a clap of thunder rolled over the flat. Lily bit down on her lip and Tom could see her trying desperately not to cry. It seemed like that was all she did anymore. 

"What do you want from me, Lily?" Tom sighed. 

"Nothing." She finally answered, anger in her voice. "I don't want anything from you." 

Tom felt like he'd been struck by lightening. Lily untangled herself from the sofa, standing as she smeared her now-falling tears off her face. She walked past him toward her bedroom, but Tom was quick, latching onto her wrist and pulling her closer to him. 

"I'm sorry." He whispered into her hair. "I really am." 

"I can't live like this, Tom." Lily pushed herself out of his grasp, lingering just close enough for him to see his own face in her eyes. "I never know when I'll see you again, and half the time you're on the other side of the world. You're gone for weeks, sometimes months. I sit around stuffing my face with popcorn and chocolate, like somehow that's going to keep me from hurting. I'm not clingy, I swear I'm not, I just..." She trailed off, crossing her arms over her chest. 

"Feel alone." Tom finished. She nodded and Tom closed his eyes, reaching out toward her. Lily stepped back into his arms, longing for his touch. She leaned her head into Tom's shoulder, her hand clinging to his still-damp biceps. He put his arm around her back, chin on her head, musing. He knew she was terrified- that he'd find someone else, someone famous, or that he'd simply forget about her. They both knew it wouldn't happen, but the fears were still there. 

He hadn't spent much time thinking about it himself, but standing with her now, he could imagine the other side too. She could have thrown him away ages ago. He tried not to picture a stranger in the dark, comforting her in thunderstorms and watching Jeopardy at four in the morning when she can't sleep. 

"Do you love me?" Tom asked her. Lily 'hm'd, and he put a hand at the back of her head, feeling the tendrils of hair ensnare his fingers. "Truly?" 

"More than life." She answered. 

Lily sat back to look at him. She pushed the hair out of her eyes, but the deep longing had not left them. 

"Would you marry me?" He blurted, the words purging. Lily stared at him with confusion, her brows knit, trying to see him through the dark. 

"What?" 

"Would you?" His heart was pounding, struggling against his rib cage and begging for release. His head felt like it might explode, and he swore he could see stars. His stomach tumbled as he realized what he was asking her, and he reached forward, grabbing her hands. Lily stared at him in disbelief when he knelt down, one knee pressed against the creaking wood floor. He cleared his throat, mind reeling. "I haven't got a ring just yet. But if you say yes, we'll find a way to make this work. No more late night phone calls or planned Skypes." 

"Tom-" 

"Please." His voice shook. "I love you, and I can't bare the thought of going on without you. I never want to spend another day worrying that you won't want me to come back. All I want is you- every day, for the rest of my life." 

There was a pause, and he looked up at her, trying to think of anything he could say to convince her. But she was already nodding, taking one of her hands and pressing it to her mouth. 

"Yeah." Tom could see tears sliding out from the corners of her eyes. These were different, warmer and held an emotion he had not seen in her in months. Now she was laughing. "Okay. Yeah. Yes." 

The thunder roared beyond the window panes. It shook the glass, and a flash of lightning filled the living room. Tom stood up and she jumped forward. Her legs wrapped around his waist and he held her there, his arms surrounding her. Lily leaned down to kiss him, and Tom guided them both toward her room as her hands gripped the back of his neck. Even in the dark, he knew the path to her room. He'd been there a hundred times or greater; it was home. 

The storm outside was but nothing compared to the thundering in his chest.


	4. Catharsis

II. Catharsis: the purging of the emotions or relieving of emotional tensions. 

  
[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=34ga3wk)   


A bitter winter wind froze Tom's cheeks as he ducked out of his car. Freshly fallen snow made the sunshine even brighter, nearly blinding him as he squinted, staring down at the sidewalk as to not slip on the ice. He was lucky he'd found a place so close to her flat to park. It didn't happen often, but when it did, he took it as a sign. 

Pulling at the collar of his turtle neck, he rounded the car and yanked open the passenger door. He could see his own breath just before he knelt down and retrieved a carefully wrapped package. It was a copy of Anna Karenina, his own favorite novel. He knew Lily would adore it. They'd discussed their shared passions for literature time and time again for nearly two years, but she'd never read it. It was a sentimental gift, and if Tom knew her as well as he was sure he did, he knew she'd appreciate and adore it way more than any diamond necklace. She didn't like, or wear, diamonds anyway. 

Tom knocked on her door eagerly. He could feel the heat in his cheeks, surely they were red, and sniffed the cold away. The bright blue door was wrenched open shortly after, and she stood before him with her own matching grin. 

Lily's hair was pulled away from her face, and Tom could see her eyes sparkling when she let him inside. He glanced around the flat and felt as though he were back home, enjoying holidays in his youth. The warmth was comforting, welcoming, against the outside frost. A Christmas tree twinkled from the far corner of her living room, dazzled with brightly colored lights and tinsel. Several other decorations grazed the walls, and the television played a very old claymation, Frosty the Snowman. 

"Happy Christmas!" Lily kissed Tom's cheek and he felt the spot burn from her lips. He placed his gift on the kitchen table, pulling her toward him. She laughed into his chest and he felt butterflies soar even after she pulled away, her attention grasped by the present. "What's this?" 

"A gift. 

"You didn't have to do that!" She swat at his arm and he mocked a flinch, but she rolled her eyes and passed by him toward a kettle on the stove. "I'm making cocoa. I wasn't really sure what we were planning to do today. " 

"I was planning to surprise." Tom shrugged, leaning with his back to the counter. He crossed his arms, watching her back as she poured steaming milk into mugs, stirring chocolate into them. She moved slowly, gracefully, like a dancer. He could see the contours of her back through the thin fabric of her long-sleeved shirt and Tom had to tear his eyes away from her form when she turned around and brought the mugs toward him. She placed one in his hand, their skin touching briefly. 

"Which means you've planned something, and not yet told me. "Lily hummed. Tom let the mug warm his still-chilly fingers, glancing down into the dark swirl of chocolate. 

"That might be the case." He told her, grinning. She smiled back, but seemed to remember something, sidling around him toward the tree. She came back a moment later, shoving a wrapped box into his hands. 

"I suppose it's only fair then?" 

Tom took the gift from her, surprised at how heavy it was, and simultaneously put his gift in her hands. She slid her fingers under the wrapping, carefully, not tearing it more than necessary. Her eyes were the sun when she saw the novel beneath it, and Tom could have gotten lost in her smile. She threw her arms around his neck and he laughed before she pulled away to watch him unravel his own gift. 

"I've been looking for one of these for ages," Tom laughed. In his hands, he held a real, vintage Polaroid camera "How on Earth..." He trailed off, beaming at Lily. He held the camera up, looking at her through the lens. She put her hand to her mouth to cover her laugh and the camera flashed as Tom pressed the button down. The photo slid out and he took it in his fingers, shaking it out as it developed. Lily stood next to him, looking at the photo with her tongue between her teeth. Tom turned the camera around, pulling her close, and pushing the button down again. 

"Alright, alright!" Lily playfully slapped Tom's shoulder as he slid the second photo into one of her empty frames on the China cabinet. "What's this surprise?" 

"It wouldn't be much of a surprise if I told you." He snorted. Lily glared at him, but he grabbed her hand, leading her to the coat closet. She slipped into her warm clothes, following Tom out the door. 

Tom studied the scarf wrapped around her throat, hanging over her buttoned up pea coat. A knit hat kept her head warm, but the cold December air tinted her cheeks a lovely shade of pink. He grinned at her when she caught him looking, and Lily stuck her tongue out at him. She was clinging to his arm for dear life, but he couldn't help be amused. Lily wasn't the most graceful being, but she was the one who told him she'd always wanted to learn to ice skate. 

She had been ecstatic when he'd stopped the car at the frozen pond, even more so when he pulled skates out of his trunk. She laced them up before he even had a chance to slide his shoes off, not that he minded. Her impatience was almost as adorable as she was. 

"Mum's flight is supposed to be in around ten tomorrow morning." Lily sighed, her arm in his grasp. She was watching a group of teenage kids skating a short distance away. Tom listened intently as they rounded one end of the pond. "Are you sure you're okay with this?" 

"You're worried for nothing." He told her. She was anxious for him to meet her mother, and nothing Tom said could relax her. "I'm sure it will be fine." 

"She'll be here for a week. What if you don't get on and she's stuck here another six days?" 

"Well," Tom sighed, watching his breath fog in front of his lips and dissipate in the air. "In that case, I've always got a whoopee cushion I could put under the couch." 

"Thomas!" Lily laughed as they slowed down. Their shoes rest a short distance away, just within Tom's reach. Tom turned, his skates sliding across the ice with a slight spray. 

"Only joking, darling. I'd never do such a thing." He kissed her cheek, grinning. 

"Somehow I've my doubts about that." Lily rolled her eyes, shoving her hands in her pockets. She could stand still well enough, but as soon as they started moving, she would stumble. Tom reached out and took her hands, trying to guide her forward without her clinging to him. She wobbled a bit, but managed to move without toppling over. "This is a terrible idea." 

"I think it's a great idea." 

"I'm going to fall." 

"You're fine." Tom was nearly skating backwards as he pulled her along, moving at snail's pace. Lily stared down at the ice, weary of it beneath her. "Scout's honor." 

He let go of her hands and she kept sliding toward him. Tom put his hands on his hips, stopping as she came forward. She looked up, just long enough to stumble forward and into him, unable to stop. 

She crashed into him, barely enough to knock them both down on the ice. Lily let out a small screech of surprise, hands splayed out against Tom's chest as they fell. He was laughing- wasn't he always?- and caught her, keeping her from hitting the rough ice. He, instead, fell on his tailbone just on the edge of the snow. 

Her face was red from embarrassment and the cold, and she glared at Tom when he only laughed harder. She crossed her arms, feigning anger as he tried to apologize through his heaving breaths. 

"I'm sorry," He put a hand to his chest, the other arm pulling her against him. 

"You did that on purpose." 

"Did not." 

"Did too." Lily turned her back to him. "You're going to need to do more than apologize, mister!" 

Tom pretended to be hurt, but she wasn't falling for it. As good as he was, she never fell for any of his acting tricks. She could always tell when he was giving her puppy dog eyes to get what he wanted. He licked his lips, watching the snow kiss the curls in her hair; her lips were tinted red, a deep contrast to her pale flesh. He could see the base of her collarbone under the scarf, and he could get lost in the rich ocean of her eyes as she glared over her shoulder, waiting for him to speak. 

"I love you." She stopped, her eyes widening and then, gradually, melting away . Her arms eased down to her sides and she turned her body back toward him, her eyes flickering across his face as though analyzing the truth to his three words. 

"What was that?" Tom felt his heart rate increase as she leaned up toward him, her face inches from his. Tom grinned like a Cheshire cat. "I love you." 

"Really?" 

"Really." 

Tom had never been happier than in that moment, took his face in her freezing hands, the touch of them burning his face. He didn't care. Lily's mouth pressed against his, sending a wave of heat through his whole body, a tingle on his spine and goosebumps on his arms. Her breath melted his face when she whispered against his mouth. 

"I love you too."


	5. Limerence

I. Limerence: a state of mind resulting from romantic attraction, characterized by feelings of euphoria, the desire to have one's feelings reciprocated, etc.  


[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=2diq2k0)

"I'm telling you, she's the one."  


Alistair would not, for the life of him, stop talking. Tom listened diligently, like the good friend he was, with his chin resting on his folded hands. Even through the lingering smoke and the too-loud music, Tom could see, even feel, Alistair's excitement. He was happy for his friend, though by now he was very tired of hearing him talk about the woman he'd met last week and inexplicably fell in love with.  


"How can you be so sure?" Tom questioned, nearly shouting through the noise. Alistair took a swig from his Guinness, hands wrapping around the tall bottle, and shrugged.  


"Sometimes you just know." Alistair told him. "You look at a girl and she smiles at you, it's brighter than the sun."  


Tom nodded, not fully understanding what his friend meant but pretending to. He'd never felt that way about a woman before. Sure, he'd had his share of romances. He'd met a dozen girls in his twenty-seven years of life, most of them trying to become actresses, and he had dated plenty of them. But none of them captured his heart the way this girl had taken Alistair's love.  


She was due to meet them at the pub, and Tom was anxious to see what was so special about her. Alistair said she was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen, and Tom would think so too, but he wasn't aloud to steal her from him. Tom had agreed jokingly, having no intentions to do so.  


Tom ran his hand through his wild curls, spinning a quarter on the table absently. Alistair sipped from his glass while his eyes scanned the dark room.  


"There," Alistair tapped his fingers on the table, regaining Tom's attention. He swiveled toward the door, spotting the two women who had just stepped into the room.  


The first was, no doubt, gorgeous. Her deep auburn hair fell over her shoulders like the Red Sea, and Alistair's eyes were drawn to her like magnets. Her name was Willow, and she wore a tight black dress and was almost taller than Alistair in her heels. He was on his feet, greeting her as they came toward their table, but Tom paid little attention to either of them.  


She'd brought a friend with her, and it was the friend who instilled in Tom the feeling that Alistair had been describing. Her heart shaped face was glowing, and when she looked at Tom, he felt his heart soar. Hair the color of moonlight in the summer, and eyes just as bright. She looked a bit like a pixie, and Tom had no doubts she was just as magical. She grinned at him, giving him a slight wave with her fingers. He mimicked the action and Willow turned toward her friend.  


"Oh, this is my friend Lily," Willow's voice was smooth like coffee. "She's going to be a famous writer one day."  


"Shut up," Lily laughed. Tom would never forget the sound of it.  


"Lovely to meet you, Lily." Tom reached out and she gave him her hand. He kissed her knuckles, swelling with pride when she blushed. She and Willow slid into the two unoccupied chairs, Willow, of course, next to Alistair, which was fine because Lily was positioned next to Tom.  


"So, you write?" He asked her. She nodded as Willow waved for a barman.  


"Sort of." She told him. "I'm not any good-"  


"Rubbish!" Willow snorted. "She's writing the most brilliant novel you'll ever read. This bitch is like Hemingway or something."  


"What do you do?" Lily ignored her friend and Tom shifted so he could face her better. A barman brought Lily a drink and she thanked him with a small smile, and Tom felt suddenly very jealous.  


"I'm an actor." He told her. Lily beamed at him, and he told her about Wallander and anything and everything he could think of to impress her. It was working, he could tell, because she laughed at his jokes and actually looked at him and listened to what he was saying.  


Lily told Tom about her novel- the love story she just couldn't get right, because she didn't know much about love- and about her brother and how she and Willow had met in Gender Studies. She talked about James Joyce and how her brother was a stage manager. Her favorite musical was Spring Awakening and she takes her tea with two sugars.  


"Last call!" The barman was shouting, and Tom licked his lips as Willow began collecting her things. Alistair was following suit, and Lily was watching. Willow bent down, whispering in Lily's ear, and Lily nodded, waving as her friend nearly tripped over her stool. She and Alistair vanished through the back door, and Tom had no doubts they were going home together. Lily pressed her lips together as she eased out of her chair. Tom followed her to the door, opening it to allow her passage before him.  


The night air was cool on their faces as they stepped outside, and Tom offered Lily his arm as they walked a ways down the road, toward where most of the traffic was. As soon as he saw a shiver crawl up her spine, he removed his sweater, insisting she take it. She did, though not without arguing, but he knew she was blushing at the gesture.  


"Alistar already thinks they're going to get married," He was telling her. Lily snorted, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "They'll be picking out baby names by tonight."  


"That's utterly ridiculous." She shook her head, pulling her coat tighter. They stopped at a corner, watching a few cars go through the light. "You can't possibly know that when you've only just met someone. I mean, love at first sight?"  


"You don't believe in it?"  


Lily looked sideways at Tom, brows furrowed. "Me? No way!"  


"I do." Tom mumbled. Lily was silent, watching a streetlight turn from green to yellow to red.  


"You like Shakespeare, don't you?" She broke the quiet between them and Tom chuckled.  


"What gave it away?"  


"You believe in love at first sight, and you just... I don't know, look like a Shakespeare guy."  


"'The course of true love never did run smooth,'" He quoted to her as they made their way over the crosswalk.  


"I love that one. 'Though she is but little, she is fierce.'"  


"I see I'm not the only fan." Tom let go of Lily's arm and she turned to face him, sticking her hands in her pockets.  


"I'm a literature student, it's sort of my area."  


"Seems we have much in common." Tom scratched the back of his head, suddenly wondering rather Alistair and Willow had been planning something all along.  


"No wonder Willow begged me to come with her." She confirmed his suspicions. "I was just going to stay home and work on an essay. She was dying for me to meet her new boyfriend, though I'm beginning to suspect it's her boyfriend's friend she was so eager to introduce me to."  


"I suspect so." Tom confirmed.  


"I wonder why that might be." Lily looked out toward the street, thought engraved in her brow.  


"It's not the first time Alistair's tried to set me up with someone." Tom sighed. "The last girl was a bit..."  


"Fucking insane?" Lily snorted. Tom felt his face flush at her words; it seemed strange to him to hear the word slip between the pale tulips of her lips.  


"That's putting it delicately. You're not insane, by any chance?"  


"I really hope not. Though, I suppose if I was, I probably wouldn't know it."  


"Well, thank God for that." Tom smirked and Lily nudged him with her elbow. "Have you got a ride home?"  


"I was thinking to take a cab." She answered. As if her very words had conjured it, a cab turned onto the street in the distance. Lily waved her hand and it continued toward them, slowing as it neared. Tom started forward, opening the door for her.  


"'Parting is such sweet sorrow.'" She nodded her thanks to him as he spoke. He paused as she climbed into the cab, considering sharing the ride with her, but as they'd only met, figured it best he didn't already learn where she lived. If he did, he might show up under her window like Romeo.  


Shakespeare was getting to his head.  


"Sorry!" She drew his attention, pausing just before him. "Did you want your sweater back?"  


"Maybe another day." Tom said coyly. "Can I see you again?"  


"One moment, sil vous plait." She told the driver. Tom only grinned wider as she took his hand, scrawling on the back of it with a felt pen. Her hands were warm on his skin, and he watched her scribble her name on him. He swore he'd never wash it again. When she was done, Tom looked at his hand and then back at Lily. She dropped the pen back into her purse, and he felt he could never take his eyes off her.  


"You'd better call me, Thomas." She laughed. "If you want your sweater back, I mean." Tom nodded furiously, closing the door behind her. The cab started away and he waved after it until the darkness swallowed it whole. He was left alone, standing on the sidewalk, thinking only of her Shakespearean beauty and her incredible wit. She may not have believed in love at first sight, but Tom sure as hell did.

  


When I saw you I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew.


	6. Epilogue: Repentance

Repentance: deep sorrow, compunction, or contrition for a past sin, wrongdoing, or the like. 

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=xe4n5g)

The smell of fresh bread and coffee filled the air as he passed by a bakery on Charlotte. Music floated out the opened door, mingling with the noise of the morning crowd and the cars on the road. He caught snippets of conversations floating around him, but Tom kept staring at his shoes as he started to pass, weaving around a crowd of people standing near the umbrella covered tables on the patio. 

He looked up just in time to stop himself from crashing into a woman crossing his path. She was looking down, her face obstructed by a long wave of blonde hair. She started when his chest brushed her shoulder, jumping back and apologizing profusely. But when her crystalline eyes met his, they both froze, suspended in time for just one moment. 

"Tom?" 

Her voice dragged him from his stupor, but he gaped nonetheless. "Lily," he stuttered, feigning a smile. It must have been convincing, because she grinned too. "H-How lovely to see you." 

"How have you been?" She ran her tongue over her lips, trying to think of what to say. It had been two years, and she expected never to see him again. It was bad enough that he could be found on the television when she flipped through channels. 

"Good, good. Great, actually." Tom pulled his sunglasses off, removing the thin plastic that separated his eyes from her face. He breathed her in, taking in the curve of her jaw and the bend of her nose. She looked almost exactly the same as she had that day in her kitchen, but it was apparent that she was much healthier. There was a certain glow about her; Tom had missed it. "How about you? You look great. Like really, great." 

"Thanks," Lily laughed, gesturing toward the cafe Tom passed. "I was just about to get some coffee, actually. Mornings aren't really my thing." 

"Don't I know it." Tom nodded, recalling the number of times he had to rip the sheets off her just to wake her up for work. He glanced over his shoulder at the cafe. "I was actually thinking of stopping myself. Would you mind I joined you?" 

He could tell by the look on her face that she knew he was lying, but she nodded, hesitating, and the two of them started toward the door. As they stepped inside, Tom's eyes adjusted to the slight darkness that filled the small dining space. 

Lily ordered her drink, and Tom followed. Together, they collected their drinks and found a four-person table against the far wall. Lily sat across from him, sipping at her cool latte. Tom mimicked the action, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest. 

"So," she crossed her legs under the table. "How's the infamy treating you?" 

Tom snorted. "I wouldn't call it that-" 

"I would." She pointed at the sunglasses hanging at the front of his shirt. "You're wearing sunglasses on the cloudiest day of the season. Everyone knows who you are and they adore you. You're famous now." 

Tom didn't answer, instead finding the lid of his drink to be exceptionally fascinating. "Needless to say you know what I've been up to." He glanced up at her. "What have you been up to?" 

"Not a lot." She confessed. "Continuing to be a normal person, I guess. Day job, car payments. I even have a white picket fence and a puppy." 

Tom swallowed his drink, listening intently. "What about two and a half kids?" 

"It's only been two years, Tom." She smirked at him and he could see her eyes sparkle under the dim lighting. "No, no kids." 

He'd be lying if he didn't say he was a bit relieved. They sat in the quiet, not awkwardly, which they were equally thankful for. He sat back in his chair, one hand wrapped around the cardboard cup. 

"I'm surprised you're even in town." She commented. "I figured you'd be on a cruise ship to Costa Rica or something." 

"I've been gone too long," he answered. "There's nothing quite like coming home after being away for a few months." 

"Yeah," Lily spoke quietly, not looking at him. "I went to Santa Fe for three months last year. I got homesick pretty fast." 

"Listen," Tom sat up, his words flying before he could realize what he was saying or why he was saying it. "I've got the next week or so to do whatever I like. We could catch up, if you'd like. There's a gallery opening on Tuesday I was thinking of going to-" 

"I know." She told him, finally locking her eyes on his. Tom stopped in his tracks, tongue caught between his teeth. "I mean, that there's a gallery. It's Alex's gallery, he's having me come early to help him make last minute adjustments." 

"Alex." He repeated, a bitter feeling of disappointment crawling up his skin. "There's an Alex." 

"Uh, yeah. Yeah." Lily breathed. Her heart was sinking just looking at Tom. "We're getting married in about six months." 

Tom's stomach dropped and he felt like he might be sick. Lily's eyes landed hard on the table between them, and he followed her gaze to her hands, folded neatly on the wood. A ring sparkled on her left hand and he tore his eyes away to stare out the bay window at the front of the cafe. 

She swallowed, hard, reminding herself that it was horribly improper to cry in public. She hadn't expected Tom to show up out of the blue. She'd done a lot to convince herself that he had moved on, but she saw the live interview he'd done last week. The look on his face when the woman asked him if he had someone special at home was enough to burn her and she had been forced to turn the television off. She didn't wait to see what his answer was. 

"That's... Great. I'm happy for you." Tom was speaking more to himself than to Lily, and neither of them wanted to acknowledge the elephant sitting at their table. They had both forgotten about their coffees. "He's an artist, then?" 

"Yeah." Lily seemed to jolt out of her thoughts, pulling her hands off the table. Tom silently thanked her for removing that disgusting piece of jewelry from his sight. She paused, musing over her word choice. "He's a nice guy, Tom. You'd really like him." 

"I doubt it." He answered honestly. Lily smiled sadly at him. 

"He's a fan of yours." She shrugged, sighing. "He was actually supposed to meet me here this morning, but it seems he's a bit late." 

"How long have you been together?" He asked. He knew he was out of bounds, asking about her boyfriend- fiance. But he couldn't help himself, and he knew she would tell him anything he asked. She always did. 

"About a year." 

"That's a bit soon." Tom cursed himself, knowing he was out of line. Lily's brows knit together and she pressed her lips in disapproval. "Sorry. It's not my place." 

"No, it's not." Lily sat back, leaning away from him. "You should go to the gallery. Don't let our being there stop you if you want to go." 

"If you're going to be there," he mused. "I'll have to stop by to see you." 

"Lily!" Her name rang through the cafe and they both turned to look at the source. He was tall, lean, but not quite as built as Tom. He was grinning, his own cup of coffee in his hand as he approached them. Tom looked away as he slid into the seat beside Lily, kising her cheek. "Sorry I'm late-" 

Alex stopped, his eyes falling on Tom. "Is that...?" 

"Alex, this is Tom." Lily gestured toward him with a hand. "He's an old friend." 

"Holy shit." He spoke under his breath. "Tom Hiddleston? Really?" 

"Nice to meet you." Tom told him, lying through his teeth. He shook the man's hand, totally unphased by the starstruck grin he held. He was used to it by now. 

"You didn't tell me you knew Tom Hiddleston." Alex put his arm around Lily's shoulders, but she shrank away and he gave her a look of confusion. Tom didn't miss it, but he felt suddenly betrayed that she had never mentioned him. 

"We haven't spoken in some time." She told her fiance. "We just ran into each other and have been catching up. He wants to go to your gallery on Tuesday." 

"Really?" Alex grinned, looking between the two. He really had no idea. "You should come out to the house, I've got a few pieces that won't be at the exhibition, but-" 

"Tom's pretty busy, Alex." Lily mumbled. Tom cleared his throat, pulling both their attention to him. 

"I'd love to." He glanced at Lily, who pressed her lips together tightly. 

  
She didn't live in the tiny flat with a blue door anymore. It was a lovely house, and she hadn't lied about the white fence or the puppy. Tom stood, awkwardly, in the living room while Lily went to the kitchen to put a kettle on. He watched her leave the room, hips swaying, and tore his eyes away the moment his eyes shifted a little too low. Alex invited him to have a seat, and he did so very carefully. It was when Alex excused himself to help Lily that Tom saw the blanket, folded carefully over the arm of the couch opposite him. 

"Your blanket is in the wash." 

"Keep it." 

Tom was thrust from his thoughts when Lily appeared in front of him with two steaming cups in her hand. She held one out for him and he took it with a quiet thanks, sipping. Earl Gray, bit of milk, no sugar. She remembered how he took it. 

"Alex had to take a phone call." She informed him. She sat next to him and crossed her legs. Tom noticed the bright red mug in her hand and nearly choked on the mouthful of tea in his mouth. 

"Your home is beautiful." Very nice, Thomas. He felt her shift on the couch, leaning against the arm and looking at him. 

"To be honest, I'd almost prefer the tiny flat." 

"Why?" Tom's brows furrowed. 

"I don't know." She sighed heavily. Tom felt her knee swipe against his thigh and his heart shot into his throat. Lily let out a slight, airy laugh and sat up to look at him, wrapping her hands around that infernal mug. "I have to confess." 

Tom's heart was drumming in his ears and he was afraid he wouldn't be able to hear her words. He sat up to listen to her, the serious expression on her face more than he could bare. "I'm listening." 

She looked at him, the way she did the last time. There was something lingering in the forefront of her mind, tangled on her tongue, inescapable. He wanted to lean forward, hug her close to him the way he used to. 

"I never read the end of Anna Karenina." Lily breathed, and Tom had a sneaking suspicion that wasn't quite what she'd wanted to say. But he merely blinked, smirking. 

"You should, sometime." He told her. "It's a beautiful story. Tragic, as romances are want to be." 

"They seem to be your forte, don't they?" She grinned. Tom was not unaware of her leg still touching his, and he cleared his throat, putting his now-empty mug on the table beside him. 

"Romances or tragedies?" 

"Maybe both." Lily stared down into the cup in her hands, fiddling with the handle. "Tom, why are you here? I know you didn't agree to come for some paintings." 

"No," he answered. "I guess I didn't." 

Lily waited for him to go on and Tom shifted in his seat. 

"I've missed you." Tom thought he was going to be sick. Lily didn't even move, her hands stilling around the mug. "I just wanted to speak with you again. I don't know." 

"The hardest thing I ever had to do," Lily turned to put the mug on the table beside her. Tom folded his hands, resting his elbows on his knees and looking sideways at her. "was saying goodbye." 

Tom might have laughed if his throat wasn't dryer than the desert. As if reading his mind, Lily stood up, weaving around the couch toward the kitchen. She swept up their mugs along the way, and Tom listened to the sound of her running them under the sink. He stood up and stood in the doorway that separated the rooms, watching her as he leaned on the frame. 

Lily opened the dishwasher, paused, and then closed it. The cups remained in the sink. When she turned around and spotted Tom, jumping with her hand over her heart. He came closer to her, crossing the kitchen in two long strides. He stood in front of her, her nose inches from his chest. Lily's breath caught in her chest when he leaned around her, his shirt swiping her as he took the cups up in one hand. He studied them, but she couldn't take her eyes away from him. 

"Tom?" It was barely a whisper, and his cerulean eyes found her face. He pulled the dishwasher next to him open, stuck the cups inside, and closed the door, all without looking away. Lily bit down on her lip, staring down at the tiles. Their toes were almost touching, and Lily felt her skin grow hot. 

"Lily, I need to ask you something." 

They were quiet, whispering almost, as though they children sneaking around after dark. She could practically feel Tom's heartbeat; the sudden adrenaline spiking through her veins was enough to drag her to cloud nine, rather she wanted it to or not. 

"Okay." Lily's lips shook. Tom let his hand lean on the counter, holding himself in place. 

"That night." He started slowly, his eyes searching her face. "Before you left, you had this look. This look that- there was something. Something you wanted to say. But you didn't. You didn't say it and it's been killing me. I can't stop thinking about it." 

"What do you want, Tom?" 

"I need to know. I need to know what it was." 

She stared up at him with her lips parted. Her eyes were glazed over with tears, but she blinked, trying to keep them back. Her cheeks were flushed pink, and Tom wanted desperately to turn away. To run out the door, past the white fence and out of her life. Just like the first time. 

"Hey, I gotta go down to the... Office." The voice jolted them from their talk, and Lily took a step back from Tom. Tom stared at the floor as Alex came closer. "Everything okay?" 

"Yeah," Lily cleared her throat, smiling at her fiance. "Tom was just telling me the ending of this really great book." 

"It's very sad." Tom confirmed, nodding. 

"You'll have to tell me about it sometime." Alex clapped a hand on Tom's shoulder and turned back toward Lily, putting a kiss on her cheek. "Anyway, I'm sorry to say I've got to run back to the studio. I'll have to show you those paintings another day-" 

"That's quite alright." Tom smiled falsely at Alex. "I'll see you at the gallery on Tuesday?" 

Alex nodded, unaware that Tom no longer had intentions of going to said gallery. Lily walked with Alex to the door, listening to him chatter along the way. Tom waited in the kitchen until she returned. She lingered in the threshold while Tom ran his hands over the counter, tracing the tiles with his index finger. 

He was handsome. That was the first thing Lily had noticed about him when they'd first met. He was Shakespearean and beautiful. Walking around her kitchen, one hand in his pocket, another hand running along the countertops. He was much the same as he was two years ago- three, five, seven years ago even. 

It could have been his house. Their house. They could have rebuild the kitchen themselves, but the hands that helped her pull apart the old tiles and replace them with new ones were calloused. The hands of a laboured man. Tom's were smooth like pebbles in the Thames. He was walking through the room as a guest, a stranger. This wasn't his home. 

"I tried to forget about you." Lily's voice broke Tom from his trance and he turned around. He was standing in front of the French doors leading to the back door, sunlight pouring on his face. He seemed to glow, his hair shining and eyes like diamonds. "But the harder I tried, I just ended up thinking about you more." 

"It's hard to forget someone who gave you a lot to remember." Tom looked out the window as Lily peeled herself away from the door and came toward him. Her hand brushed his as she stepped closer, though neither of them made an apparent motion to move away. 

"I can't give you what you want." Lily breathed, staring out the glass. She could feel Tom's eyes trained on her. "I can't say it, because if I do, that makes it real. We said goodbye for a reason." 

"The more time goes on, the more I forget why that was." 

They watched the world beyond the window, continuing on. The sun sparkled in the sky, the breeze waved flags and children rode by on their bikes. 

"Does it really matter? It's too late now." She breathed. "I'm getting married." 

"To someone else." He stared into her eyes for a long moment, but his hand fell back to his side. 

"Yeah." Lily wiped at her eyes, trying to fight away her tears. Tom sighed, heavily, backing away from her again. He rubbed the back of his neck, the realization of her impending marriage finally starting to sink in. 

"Does he make you happy?" 

"Yes. Very." She nodded slowly and Tom tried to ignore the stray tear leaking from the peak of her chin. It finally fell, plopping silently on her collarbone. 

"Good. You deserve it." Tom cleared his throat. "That's all I ever wanted for you." 

"I know." She let out a dry laugh and Tom couldn't help but smile. They stood in the silence, listening to the birds outside, chirping amongst the trees. 

"I should probably get going." Tom's breath tickled the back of Lily's neck, sending a shiver up her spine. She followed him idly toward the front of the house, counting his footsteps as they went. He pulled the door open, turning toward her. Her hands were curled, folded together at the base of her collarbone. She seemed jittery, anxious almost, and Tom could barely contain his desire to wrap her up in his arms and let her cry on him the way she used to. 

"I'll see you around, yeah?" He offered. She nodded. They both knew the truth. He didn't have her number anymore, and he doubted that she had his. If they saw each other again, it would be by chance- passing the cafe or on the tube. He wouldn't meet her in a bar and recite Shakespeare to make her laugh. He wouldn't take her ice skating or give her his favorite novel for Christmas. (Did she still own it, like his forgotten blanket and the mug?) 

"I'll be seeing you." She licked her lips. Tom leaned forward, putting his hands delicately on her shoulders. His lips pressed gently, almost like a ghost, on her forehead. Her eyes fluttered closed on instinct, but he lingered only a moment before pulling himself away from her. The door closed behind him with a mocking thud. 

Tom pressed his back against the wood, staring up at the morning sun. Through the clouds, a little ray of light filled the world around him. He willed his heart to slow down, unaware that the woman on the other side of the door was standing as close as she could, her cheek and palm pressed against the door as though she could hear every breath he was taking. 

Slowly, like falling asleep, Tom straightened, running his hand over his jumper. With a heavy heart and a fading memory, he took the first step forward; and away from Lily.


End file.
